So about that last entry...
I knew I was going to order the thing, I wanted to make up for the last few months of shoddy posting... and the next few months where, well, I think we ALL can count on me getting shoddy from time to time. So, literally, it was something I decided to do that morning.
Its called a whim, divine inspiration, one of those precious few times when I decide to do something and actually do it. No muse to motivate me (what's a muse??), no well thought out plan. I just put it in my head to do a Mop-Up and booya, there you have it.
Will I do one again? I dunno. DON'T ASK ME FOR ONE.
And no, I'm not even being coy, there won't be one for Wrestlemania. I probably won't even get it. None of the potential matches intrique me. Orton vs Cena? Blah. HHH vs Edge? *snore*. Undertaker vs HBK? Uhhh... maybe, depends on how its laid out. Nothing there worth $50.
It's like when I faked getting married. We have a bit of a connection, you and I. You show up and I throw a curve ball every so often. You show up and I let you pretty much say whatever you want. You show up and I give you one of the coolest blogs out there... in my own lame way. I give you whatever I feel like giving you and you bust my balls or say whatever in any way you see fit. THAT'S a connection. Not you telling me how awesome I am and kissing my ass. Give and take stuff.
And thanks for the nice compliments.
But, regular Mop-Ups? Nahh. It'll never happen. Basically, for this to happen I would have to have nothing to do Tuesdays, like... the entire day off, I would have to buy a laptop so i could write and watch and rewind at the same time, I would have to guzzle 3 or 4 pots of coffee each column, and I would have to blow tens of dollars on dirty joke books.
Plus I would need a major web site to want this x-rated nonsense... and Inside Pulse isn't major... and I'm not going back to 411 no matter how many times Ashish asks me to.
Hyatte Lives, and its our dirty little secret. Just enjoy it.
Let's see... good Superbowl... actually a GREAT Superbowl. Arizona, who shouldn't have even made it there, made Pittsburgh fight until the very end. Other than dumb personal fouls in the fourth quarter, they have nothing to be ashamed of. And Ben Roethlisberger (who may have fucked Trish... nice) joined the elite. For a big guy, he's a slippery mother, ain't he? Too bad he's one concussion away from drinking his meals out of a straw.
As for commercials, we'll let Scooter review those.
Last thing... everyone has their undies in a twist for how the WWE wrecked Randy Orton's momentum by having tubby, windy Shane McMahon kick his ass. OVER-REACTING... as usual, these guys. Oh sure, it was self-serving and arrogant and typical McMahon insecurity (everything they do screams, "LOVE US!!")... but look...
-They have one more PPV until WM in just two weeks.
-They want to make the PPV inticing.
-They have a double "Elimination Chamber" co-main event. Neither of which involves Orton.
-They want Orton wrestling.
-Shane is known to show up once every few years and dive off high places.
So, tonight they set up Orton vs Shane. Put some crazy rules on it. And now we have three major matches on the PPV between two oif the big shows. Plus they can end the match with either Shane or Stephanie joinging the "Legacy" group.
No brainer. Then Orton goes to fight Cena and Shane goes back to... doing whatever he does.
No big deal.
Anyway. Within the week I'll have a comment response-heavy blog... where, among other things, I will discuss Vibrators: For real men or for half-fags?
And... umm... I dunno. Any suggestions?
